A Forest World

  “Then you were lucky.”

  “And what happened to you?”

  The owl snapped her beak angrily. “Nothing! I was lucky too, I must say. Lucky and wise. Listen. One morning I was coming home to my quiet little place, and what do I find? Everything full of smoke, smell and fire! No horses, no donkey, no cow, no calf. The entire place empty. It was a trap for me—you see? But they didn’t get me. Not me! Oh, He’s treacherous and tricky. You can’t trust Him.”

  Genina said with surprise, “Really, I can hardly believe that!”

  The owl insisted, still snapping her beak, “You can believe me all right!”

  Genina objected: “He was always good and kind to us.”

  “Yes,” the owl continued with sage nods. “He pretended . . . but only to win our confidence. And then—”

  “You see, mother,” Loso said, “I was right to be afraid.”

  “And my fear,” Mena added, “wasn’t so foolish either.”

  “See what happened,” Loso continued triumphantly, “to the good owl.”

  “Always listen to children,” said the owl. “They have a sure instinct. Farewell!” And she flew away.

  Genina stared after her, confused and troubled. Then suddenly she saw Rombo approaching, slowly, looking friendly. Love and resentment struggled in Genina’s breast.

  “Rombo!” she whispered rapturously. “Rombo!”

  Loso and Mena stood still, except for their ears which waggled joyfully.

  Genina recovered herself. “Don’t you pay any attention to your father,” she ordered. “No greeting. And don’t move from my side.”

  Rombo strutted toward her, his legs lifting nobly. “Greetings, Genina!”

  She made a sulky face and was silent.

  But Loso called out, “Greetings, father!”

  “We’ve been waiting for you so long!” Mena said tenderly.

  Genina looked at them in annoyance.

  But Rombo was very gentle. “How pretty they are, those two! My compliments, Genina.”

  She was still silent.

  “Why don’t you speak to me?” Rombo said softly. “The children are nice to me, but you—”

  “You don’t deserve friendliness,” she retorted. “You faithless—”

  “I was not! I was only hurt—”

  “You behaved badly, Rombo. Very badly.”

  “Because you abandoned me, Genina.”

  “You should have been happy to see me again.”

  “I was. But I didn’t want you to know.”

  “And now suddenly you do?” Genina was skeptical.

  “Yes, Genina. I’m not angry with you anymore. And you must forgive me.”

  “Must you talk in front of the children?” she asked, already half won over.

  “Be off with you—immediately!” he commanded the children. “I want to be alone with your mother.” Frightened, Mena and Loso rushed away. “They’re almost grown up,” he declared. Then he spoke firmly: “Now it’s just as it used to be. We’re together again. . . .”

  Chapter 18

  IN THE AUTUMN THE STAGS had shed their crowns. Many a helpless hazel bush, many a young birch and ash had lost their bark under their butting blows. First the naked wood stared out, white-yellow; then it was veined with red, and finally it showed open and discolored wounds. Many a bush and a few trees died slowly from the scars made by the stately stags’ antlers.

  During the shedding season, Debina had waited at a little distance from Tambo.

  Now she admired her chosen one’s superb violence and the growing beauty of his new crown. It had fourteen ivory-colored points.

  It was the mating season again, and Debina’s presence embarrassed Tambo. She still followed him modestly and silently, pacing behind him on his secret winding paths, sleeping nearby when he rested, rising when he rose. She never realized she might be intruding, never thought she might be a burden to him.

  Often Tambo intended to ask her to leave him alone, not to follow him anymore. But he could not find the right way to speak to her. Then he had begun to realize that if he drove her away, he would miss her. He saw how used to her he had grown. So he said nothing.

  One day when Debina was sleeping soundly, Tambo, who never allowed himself the luxury of deep sleep, heard His steps coming closer and closer.

  Martin was out for a walk. He was not seeking Tambo’s bed, nor would he have disturbed it. Softly the stag rose and slipped away very quietly, at first moving slowly, then faster and faster. Finally, he shot off like an arrow. Sometimes he paused to listen. He could still hear His steps.

  Tambo zigzagged into the distance. Then he heard other movements. Frightened, he threw back his head and scented the breeze. The noise of the other feet was plain.

  Peter was following Martin. He caught up with him and their steps sounded together.

  Panic overcame Tambo. He ran farther and farther without knowing why. As the wind shifted, he caught the scent of both the two-legged ones. Thoroughly alarmed now, he did not remember their past goodness. He didn’t think at all. He rushed blindly to the most distant boundary of the hunting preserve where the cultivated fields began. But so well did he instinctively control himself, that even his mad rush was noiseless. Through the densest thicket his hoofs made no sound. Finally he stopped and listened carefully. Now he heard no steps. He scented the air in all directions. It was clear. Again, as once before, a happy feeling of liberation shot through him. It glowed warmly in him.

  Only then did he remember Debina. Had he lost her? Had he escaped her too? Was he rid of her? His first thought was that he was glad. His burden was gone.

  But he became sad again at once. Why, he could not do without her!

  * * *

  Debina awoke with a feeling that something must have gone wrong with Tambo. His bed was empty. The trail he had left was barely visible. The scent which might have guided her to him was blown away by the wind.

  She set out in sad confusion to look for him. Lacking courage to run, she went step by step, stopped, stood without moving, inhaled the air questioningly. Nothing.

  She started blaming herself, longing and worrying. How could she have slept? It was frivolous to sleep and wake too late. What had happened to her friend and master? No one would dare attack him. The thunder-stick had not thundered, and so—

  Yet He had soundless weapons too, Debina knew—a mysterious power strong enough to murder even the mighty Tambo. Debina did not give a thought to His goodness. All her confidence disappeared. She grew desperate.

  A sharp, unpleasant scent caught her attention. The fox! He slunk by quite close to her, and she forced herself to call to him.

  “Greetings.”

  Surprised, the fox stopped. “Were you speaking to me?”

  “Yes, Red Robber!”

  The fox crooked a foreleg breast high. A sarcastic smile twisted his wily face. “Aren’t you afraid of me?”

  “When I was small and weak, I was,” Debina said. “But I’ve not been for a long time now.”

  “Proud one!” grinned the fox. “You had a royal protector until—” he hesitated, slyly.

  “Until—? Well, speak up!” Debina pressed him.

  “Until he deserted you.”

  She was speechless. It had not occurred to her that Tambo had gone just to get rid of her. Now she believed it at once. Ashamed, helpless, filled with mourning, she dropped her head.

  The fox was sorry for her. “Don’t take it so hard! I said that only as a joke because you hurt me.”

  Debina looked up quickly. “How?”

  “You called me ‘robber.’ ”

  “Aren’t you proud of being a robber?”

  “I don’t know. Have you any idea, you happy grass-eater, what a life I lead? How much hunger I suffer? What dangers threaten me? How I risk my neck again and again? How much presence of mind it takes to save myself? And how wearying it is? If I could satisfy my appetite as easily as you and your kind, I wouldn’t have to slip a
round stealthily, or be ready to flee at every moment. My flight would be as free and open as Tambo’s.”

  “Do you know anything about Tambo?”

  “Indeed I do,” said the fox. “I know everything.”

  “Tell me!” urged Debina.

  “He fled for no reason, like a coward.” And the fox recounted the story of Tambo’s fear and flight. “By the way, aren’t you going the wrong way?” And he directed her in the course Tambo had taken.

  Debina started off immediately. But the fox blocked her way. She almost stepped on him. She was annoyed. “What does this mean? Don’t delay me.”

  Politely he retorted, “That’s exactly my intention.”

  Debina stamped with her strong forelegs. “Go away!”

  The fox smiled, still more suavely polite. “You’ll have to learn patience.”

  “Have to!” she burst out. “You’re impudent! If you think you can order me—”

  “Now just look.” His politeness remained smooth, but was mixed with irony. “How bossy you are! Yes, yes—only a moment ago you listened to my confession with sympathy. I’d have thought we were friends.”

  “There can be no friendship between us! You know that.”

  “I know that,” he repeated lightly. “Still, I told you about Tambo, and showed you how to find him.”

  Debina nodded.

  “And now,” continued the fox, “you leave me without thanks, without a parting word. Your behavior isn’t nice at all—not at all.”

  Embarrassed, Debina asked, “My thanks mean something to you?”

  The fox’s tail drooped. “In all the forest I have no friends,” he said. “Not a single one. All are my enemies and I’m the enemy of all. Sometimes I hate this . . .”

  “Only you yourself are to blame,” Debina admonished him. Against her will, the red robber at her feet fascinated her.

  “Your greeting,” the fox admitted, “touched my poor lonely heart and made me weak. Now you can measure how great value your thanks would have for me . . .”

  “Then—then I thank you. And farewell!”

  “Very nice,” the fox murmured. “No friendship. But even bare friendliness feels good.”

  “Now let me go,” Debina demanded, impatient again. “You’ve delayed me too long already.”

  “I’m not delaying you, Debina. I’m helping you,” the fox replied. “Take my advice. I mean it well. Don’t run, don’t hurry. Stroll slowly, calmly. Then you won’t frighten Tambo when he sees you. Farewell!”

  In a flash the fox vanished. Only his evil scent stayed for a while in Debina’s nostrils. For a second she stood still, then started off as the fox had directed her, step by step on Tambo’s trail, never attempting a cross-cut. From time to time she paused to listen.

  She was subdued. She wanted only to think of Tambo. His kingly dignity did not suffer in her eyes even when she remembered that he had fled “like a coward.”

  “What was degrading about that?” she asked herself. “Nothing at all!” When He came into the forest—He whom none could resist, whose power was without limit, whose intentions could not be guessed—then, yes, then even Tambo might flee.

  She saw nothing and caught no scent. She began to suspect that the fox had deceived her. This made her doubly helpless. Swiftly she turned and sprang in the opposite direction. But only for a little way. Almost at once she stopped and told herself, “No, the fox didn’t fool me. Impossible! What he said rang true.”

  Believing it now firmly, she turned around again and proceeded slowly, sometimes with the wind, then against it, as it shifted from time to time. Suddenly a faint breath of Tambo wafted into her nostrils. It was only for a second, yet Debina gained new life from it.

  Now she knew! “Tambo is near! Tambo is coming!”

  She pressed on through a birch grove that was bare of underbrush and very light.

  On the far side of this grove appeared a figure. Tambo! He lifted his head and saw her. She stood still, caught again by the majesty of his crown, the richness of his mane, the beauty of his body.

  Tambo began a gallop toward her. His bearing spoke his joy.

  Happily Debina galloped toward him. Then, at her old accustomed distance, she stopped, humbly still.

  At once Tambo slowed to a walk and paced by her.

  Devotedly she turned to follow him, and with that he seemed content.

  Now he sought a new bed. At length, in the densest part of the thicket, he found a suitable camping place. Very tired, he let himself down full length.

  Some distance away Debina found another bed.

  The two of them had not spoken a syllable, nor exchanged greetings. Yet both derived a tender and pleasant peace from each other’s presence.

  Tambo fell asleep immediately.

  But Debina stayed awake, watching him. She was thinking with sympathy of the fox.

  Chapter 19

  IN THE STABLE THINGS HAD changed.

  Manni the donkey was still weak and they all worried over him. But if they asked, “How goes it with you?” he always answered, “Very well, thank you.”

  Yet in truth it did not go well with him at all.

  Timid and ashamed, Devil was the one most anxious about him. Devil too had changed. He was more gentle and patient, and no longer had fits of anger. He made every effort to get Manni to talk, always seeking his opinion. Yet on every topic Manni kept silent or said only, “I don’t know,” or, “That’s beyond me.”

  Lisa was nicest of all. “Drink some of my milk, Gray,” she suggested. “It will do you good.”

  “Thank you, mother,” Manni answered, “but I’m not thirsty.”

  “Drink without thirst then,” Lisa urged, “for your health’s sake.”

  “But I don’t like milk,” Manni protested.

  “Try it,” whispered the stallion.

  Without answering, Manni, his gait uncertain, walked through the swinging doors into the garden.

  “He hasn’t forgiven me yet,” whinnied Devil.

  “Oh yes, he has! He forgave you right after you kicked him,” Witch consoled him. “But leave him alone. Don’t ask him so many questions. Don’t give him so much advice. Peace is all he wants.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” the stallion admitted readily. These days he agreed with everyone.

  The donkey, tired and sick, stood outside in the sun. It was hard for him to breathe. His throat and head hurt badly.

  Witch and Devil came out to join him.

  “It’s nice here,” Devil remarked, to start conversation.

  Manni nodded silently.

  “Do you remember the roes we had here?”

  Again a silent nod.

  “You never really told us about your adventures in the forest,” the stallion said gently.

  “Oh, yes, I did,” said Manni.

  “Not enough,” the stallion urged.

  Manni kept silent.

  “You promised us more later,” Witch whispered, forgetting the advice she had given Devil.

  “Did I? I don’t remember.”

  The mare adopted a new tone. “Listen, Gray, this fellow here”—she indicated Devil with her head—“thinks you haven’t forgiven him yet.”

  “Nonsense!”

  “Please tell him that you forgive—”

  “No!”

  “Then he’s right?”

  “No!”

  “But if you did forgive him, couldn’t you say it again?”

  “No!” The donkey’s stubbornness broke out. He turned away and swayed back into the barn. The horses followed him sadly.

  “What’s the matter?” Lisa wanted to know.

  She received no answer from Manni, but Witch in whispers described the scene and the stallion’s sorrow.

  “That’s just Gray’s way,” the cow observed. “He said once that he forgave Devil. Now he acts as if he hadn’t. Don’t worry about it, fiery one.” She still called Devil that though now he was anything but fiery. “And anyway, look at Gr
ay. He really feels badly.”

  The donkey was leaning against the wall and groaning.

  The horses hurried over to him. “How do you feel?”

  Manni answered softly, “Very well, thank you.”

  “Aren’t you feeling bad?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have pain?”

  “No.”

  Peter entered the stable with the veterinarian. He was explaining. “Two weeks ago he was in sound health. But now see there, Doctor.”

  “Why, he’s wasting away!” the veterinarian exclaimed.

  “Exactly!” Peter nodded.

  The veterinarian went toward Manni, who backed away stubbornly.

  “What’s the matter with you, Manni?” In his gentle way Peter caressed the donkey’s neck, but accidentally on the sore spot.

  Manni’s teeth snapped, and Peter might have been bitten had he not quickly pulled back his hand.

  He was startled. “Poor fellow! He must be very ill. I’ve never seen him so angry.”

  Remorsefully Manni laid his head against Peter’s breast. Touched, the old man murmured, “Yes, boy, yes. Now we’re friends again, aren’t we?” To the veterinarian he whispered: “Now, Doctor, quickly and thoroughly!” He caressed Manni’s forehead and cheeks, while he covered the donkey’s eyes with his hands.

  The doctor tapped Manni’s lungs, flanks and kidney region. Manni bore it stolidly.

  “Now,” said the veterinarian, “I’d like to look into his mouth. Will he stand for it?”

  “If I open his mouth, certainly.” Peter took hold of the silky soft jowls. “Now, Manni, now. It’ll be all over in just a moment.”

  Good-naturedly Manni opened his jaws. The doctor glanced in quickly. “Nothing, not a trace of illness” was his judgment. “As far as I can see, there is not a thing the matter with him.”

  “But his condition is pitiful,” Peter complained. “It’s strange—and puzzling.”

  The veterinarian shrugged helplessly. Both men departed.

  “They are stupid,” Lisa muttered.

  The stallion neighed softly, “They have the best intentions.”

  “What good is that?” grumbled Lisa. “What good is that if one’s as stupid as straw?”

  The mare was more hopeful. “Now that the Hes have touched him, perhaps it’ll go better with Gray.”